Darth Vader: Dark Lord
by Darth Draconous
Summary: Sorry it's been on hold for so long. Just haven't had any breakthroughs.
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Darth Vader had been subject to many forms of pain in his time as both a Jedi Knight and Dark Lord of the Sith, though he hadn't been the Dark Lord for more than three months.

He had held his mother in his arms as she died, succumbing to wounds inflicted by the vicious Tusken Raiders on Tatooine. It had been years since he had seen her before then. The Tuskens had paid dearly for her death.

Not some months after that, he had lost his right forearm in a lightsaber duel with Count Dooku. Dooku, too, had paid with his life for the loss of Vader's limb.

He had most recently lost his other arm at the elbow and both of his legs at the knee, which now were all replaced with cheap durasteel prostheses. For all the Emperor's wealth and power, he hadn't even felt it prudent to properly repair the damage done to Vader's body.

Though even with all these tragedies, the moist poignant of them all was the death of his beloved wife Padmé. For all he had—the extremes he had gone to—just to protect her, she had ultimately wound up dead—killed by his own hand in a fit of blind rage.

As he stood at the bridge of the Exactor, he attempted to cross his arms over his vast, armored chest. However, the metal that gave his prosthetics shape snagged on the inner lining of his armored suit and hindered the movement. His artificial legs were probably worse. The heels of the prostheses pushed him forward slightly, forcing him to lean heavily on the Force as a sort of "crutch" to get from one place to another. If he didn't use the Force, he was in danger of stumbling. The life support suit was something he had been cursed with after his duel with Obi-Wan had gone horribly awry. Apart from losing his limbs, he had been left for dead on the shores of a lava flow. His skin had ignited, injuring him greatly. His lungs had also been badly seared from the hot ash he had swallowed. His eardrums had melted away from the intense heat, and his eyes were damaged beyond repair.

His eardrums had been replaced with artificial implants that sharpened his hearing beyond human capability, but distorted sounds so that everything sounded like it was coming from underwater. It also made it harder to tell where sounds were coming from. To both protect his eyes and help him breath, an overly large Sith mask and helmet had been fitted over his head. The mask sharpened his vision, but gave everything an unnatural red tint to protect his damaged eyes from further injury. The mask also pumped air into his ravaged lungs, whether he wanted it to or not. Because of this, he could even breathe while talking.

Of course, if the breathing mechanism were to break, he could breathe unassisted . . . _for a limited amount of time._

The mask also limited his peripheral vision to the point that anyone standing directly at his side would be in his blind spot. Also, without inclining his head almost ninety degrees, he could no longer see the toes of his poorly fitted boots, which were far too small for his new legs.

But the suit did have its advantages—one being that his imposing presence. With his artificial arms, he could now lift a full-grown man a meter or two off the ground without use of the Force. And though he was incapable of casting Sith Lightning—for fear that it would damage his vast network of cybernetics—he had found that using the Force to crush a man's windpipe suited him fine. From clear across a room or across star system, or as long as the person was in his sight, he could shorten the breath of anyone to the point of a near-instant death by just narrowing his thumb and forefinger.

_I think you will find that your new abilities are all courtesy of your connection to the dark side,_ his master, Darth Sidious, had once told him. _Though you do not hold all knowledge of the Sith yet, my apprentice. That is why you have need of me, and I will gladly indulge you._

But Vader's definition of "indulge" seemed to be far different from Sidious', as did everything else he believed. Sidious had offered to share his knowledge—all of it. However, he seemed to always keep a little in reserve, never effectively completely every lesson. It was if he wanted Vader to be powerful, but not powerful enough to threaten his rule. It was a perversion of the Sith way.

But Sidious was right: Vader did have need of him. For now.

_Good, Anakin, good! Kill him. Kill him now,_ Palpatine had said. Vader was looking into Count Dooku's eyes all over again, the fallen Jedi Master seemed to materialize on his knees, both his wrists smoking, with two lightsabers at his throat.

_I shouldn't . ._ . He had protested.

_Do it, Anakin_! That was the only time Palpatine had let his true voice—sinister and venomous—leak through his carefully constructed façade that hid his true identity.

But then perhaps he, Vader, would one day hold his master's life in his hands. And when that day came, he would end it.

_But am I truly the Emperor's right-hand man? Or just a last-minute replacement for Count Dooku? Or worse: another General Grievous?_

He was no Count Dooku. Dooku had been weak, too easily slain.

He was definitely not another General Grievous. Grievous had become quicker, more agile, with his body. He had been able to wield lightsabers without the Force—something not easily done, even with help from cybernetics.

Vader, however, was slowed down by his four mechanical appendages. They were more a hindrance than help. Vader also had relied on the Force to help him with simple tasks, such as just walking around. He didn't see how General Grievous deserved to become more deadly because of his transformation, and Vader more slow and clumsy.

He had been forced to do away with his favored lightsaber form, Ataru, because that required the user to be quick and acrobatic. Instead, he chose the strength of Djem-Sho, though that made him vulnerable if his opponent was quicker than him—as they usually were. Luckily, however, he also applied some of his old master's favored lightsaber form—Soresu. Soresu had first been created millennia ago at the beginning of the age of blasters. This form offered nearly impenetrable defense, if the user was skilled.

He knew very little about the dark side, though he knew very well how to turn his rage into a fuel for his power—though even his new master warned him that he would have to learn to control his raging emotions.

But why should he?

He had always used that hatred, that rage, to fuel his power in the past as a Jedi Knight. It made him strong, stronger than the Jedi Masters and their vaunted wisdom and powers. Strong enough to nearly extinguish the Order by killing every Jedi in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

Though some had managed to slip past him.

For instance: six—or seven, counting the one who joined at the last minute—Jedi had arrived on Kashyyyk, the Wookiee homeworld, a month or so ago. He had killed two upon his arrival—Siadem Forte and Iwo Kulka, each very skilled duelists—to the city of—what was it called? Kachirho? After that, Padawan Olee Starstone had bravely—if not foolishly—stepped forward to confront him, only to be saved by Jedi Master Roan Shryne. Master Shryne had fought well and bravely, just like Forte and Kulka, but had ultimately been struck down.

But he probably would have died anyway in the destruction of Kashyyyk. Vader had ordered the planet to be bombarded by the Imperial ships that had been in orbit.

He was still yet to find the other four.

He had managed to wound at least two of them, so they would be moving slowly to try and make sure the two amputees recovered. He had rid Jambe Lu of his right arm and Nam Poorf of his right leg.

Vader's artificial right hand—he did not call that one "new" because it was the only one that felt natural—rested on the pommel of his new lightsaber.

In many ways, he had modeled his new lightsaber from his old Jedi one. The grip at the bottom of the hilt and the beveled shroud were giveaways.

Though it still didn't feel the same.

His new lightsaber was built rather awkwardly. He had tried to make it somewhat like his old one, imply some of his master's lightsaber, which Sidious had lent him for inspiration, and his own style. The result was an elongated hilt—he had been forced to make it that way because of his large hands. He could no longer keep the loose grip on it he used to—his right hand next to the emitter and his left on the grip.

He would definitely need to make some improvements. He would want to be perfectly prepared when he hunted down his next Jedi target.

He would love to hunt Obi-Wan down—to find him huddled and afraid at the edges of the galaxy. He would savor the feeling of plunging the blade of his new lightsaber into his old master's traitorous heart. He would revel in his power as he watched his old master die—as he watched the light leave his eyes.

_Obi-Wan betrayed me. He deserves death._

Or had it been Sidious who had betrayed him?

Sidious had manipulated everything from the start—even him. He knew that it was Sidious who had used Count Dooku to begin his descent—to tell him that he could save his wife with the dark side, when instead he only learned how to kill! He promised peace to the galaxy, and instead they maintained order through violence and deception!

He knew Sidious was playing his weakness—his hatred of the Jedi Order. At first he had told him not to dwell on the lucky survivors—were they lucky with Vader on their tail?—who had escaped the clone troopers and Order66—the code Palpatine had given to clone commanders to turn on their Jedi leaders. Now all his master wanted to do was sharpen his hatred for the Jedi so that he would hunt them down.

My master just doesn't want to admit to being wrong, old fool. I told him at the beginning these bands of Jedi would be a threat. He sees it now.

"Lord Vader."

Vader turned to the officer standing behind him.

"Yes? What is it?"

"We have reports from a bounty hunter that he has spotted Jedi on Nar Shaddaa."

"Very well," said Vader's electronically synthesized, booming mechanical voice—without the amplifier, he could speak barely over a whisper. "Set the ship to a hyperspace route to Nar Shaddaa."

Vader turned away from the officer, looking out of the forward viewport at the moonlet-sized space station being built in deep space, and then strode out of the bridge, toward his meditation chamber where he could think properly.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

_Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala stood on the balcony of a large estate on Naboo in the capital Theed. Overgrown vines, moss, and sweet-smell flowers circled the balcony and almost covered the stone completely. Padmé looked out over the balcony, to the lake that stretched out like a pool of sparkling sapphires for miles and miles ahead of them. Her eyes wandered to a small island that sat in the middle of the lake, a single tree shaded the sandy shore, casting a multi-armed shadow over the sparse tufts of grass._

_"When I was little we used to come here for school retreat," she said, still looking at the island as if though it was similar to a painting that surpassed the beauty and elegance of all others, as if though all the colors of the galaxy had been melded together by an artist far to skilled to be called a master at his work._

_Anakin watched her as the same way. For some reason he couldn't take his eyes off her beautiful features. His eyes were welded to her magnificent—and curvy—form._

She's too beautiful for words, _he thought profoundly._

_"I remember how we used to swim to that island. We would lay out on the sand and let the sun dry us," she continued. "Then we would guess the names of the all the birds singing."_

_Anakin continued to stare at her before he talked. "I don't like sand; it's coarse and irritating . . . and it gets everywhere. Not like you; you're everything soft and smooth." He extended a hand and ran it over her shoulder, expecting her to resist. She continued to stare at the island. He rubbed her shoulder, surprised that he met no resistance. Finally he decided to go farther. They looked at each other for what seemed like hours, but in truth it was only a few seconds. Finally, he came down and pulled her into a deep kiss._

_"No!" she said suddenly, pulling away from him. "I shouldn't have done that."_

_"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly, smiling nonetheless._

"Padmé!" cried Vader, his voice echoing around his hyperbolic chamber. He had fallen asleep while thinking things over. _It was just a dream . . . just a dream. But why would such a happy memory cause me such fright? . . . Because _I _killed her. _He calmed himself down before pushing some buttons that ordered droids to lower and attach his helmet. He hoped no one had heard his outburst, then he remember the chamber was soundproof. He relied completely on the Force to know whether or not someone was outside when he was inside.

When he heard the click of the electromagnetic lock, he pushed the button to open his chamber. Standing outside was an Imperial officer who looked slightly irritated. He had probably been trying to tell Vader something while he was sleeping. He almost crashed into the officer but stopped just in time.

"You have news for me?" Vader asked with a hint of annoyance, backing away a few paces so he could look down at the officer.

The officer was apparently nervous that his irritated look had angered the Dark Lord. He thought that was the reason Vader had snapped so angrily. "We . . . are having problems with the hyperdrive. We made it halfway out of the Core before we registered strange readings from the hyperdrive. We shut down all unnecessary systems, the communication systems as well. We made an unscheduled stop at Kuat Drive Yards to have mechanics repair or replace the engine."

"Can't we any of the onboard mechanics to take look at it?" Vader asked.

"They went to go check on it when it started to malfunction," the officer said nervously. "We got some major heat readings from the engine room so we sent some hazard troopers to check it out. They came back with grim reports, my lord. It seems that the hyperdrive exploded, killing the mechanics. Why it did this we do not know. Some of the tech specs are looking into it as we speak."

"Don't we have a backup hyperdrive?" Vader huffed impatiently.

"We . . . did, my lord," said the officer, his hands were clasped tightly behind his back and beads of sweat were appearing on his face.

"'Did'?"

The officer nodded slowly, then said cautiously, "The backup hyperdrive was sabotaged somehow. We suspect that someone may have snuck onboard when there were now crewmen around. We were sure that the landing yards on Coruscant were quiet secure. It was either one of our boys or the Rebels somehow bypassed the security codes to get into the yards . . ."

"Who was the security officer in charge of watching the yards?" Vader was growing more impatient with so much insolence by the minute.

"Sergeant Trey Rem," said the officer. "He was apprehended by the Emperor's personally police squad. They took him into custody yesterday; it would seem the _Accuser, _Admiral Piett's flagship, suffered similar damage. He is being interrogated as we speak, my lord. The Emperor promised us that he was using most harsh methods to ensure he improves his attentiveness."

"The Emperor contacted you? When?"

"As soon as we reported the destruction to the land yards' control station. We shut down communications shortly after. He said he would contact us tomorrow to see if things were underway."

"What else did he say?"

"That was all my lord."

Vader contemplated the situation for a moment. Someone had sabotaged the hyperdrive engines and backup engines of two Imperial ships in two days. It either had to be a highly skilled rebel slicer who was good at concealment and espionage, a gang member who wanted some action, a treasonous Imperial, or an ex-Imperial officer. He had never met Sergeant Rem personally, but he suspected he must be an ignorant fool. Was there anyone who had resigned their commission lately who was not fit for the Empire . . . ?

"Inform the Drive Yard mechanics that I am in a hurry," Vader said at length. "Tell them they would do well to hurry. The longer those Jedi roam Nar Shaddaa freely the more of a threat they become." The officer turned to leave with a salute but Vader stopped him one last time. "One more thing, inform your superiors that they are assigned with ascertaining the list of suspects; I want to know who did this and how they did it. Dismissed."

Vader was unsure about how she should feel toward the situation. Simple malfunctions on the scale of a hyperdrive not working happened to everyone at least once, but rarely did they blow up and kill the person working on them. And never had heard of _both _the main and backup engine being destroyed. Whoever had done this was a formidable opponent indeed.

_Could it have been a Jedi? _he wondered. No, the Emperor would have felt the presence of a Jedi on Coruscant. Wouldn't he? The city-planet's overpopulation created a deafening echo in the Force, making it hard to decipher between a normal civilian and the most powerful of the Jedi Masters. How hard would it be for the Emperor to make out a Jedi's Force-signature when even in his Jedi days he had not been able to do it.

_And I was stronger than Palpatine then._

Vader exited his chambers and headed for the bridge, his gloved left hand resting on the pommel of his lightsaber. If anyone angered him he would unleash his aggravation, despite who it was and how high in military rank they were. At this point, he would sacrifice Grand Admiral Thrawn—by far the Empire most brilliant strategist (next to him of course)—to vent his rage.

Nar Shaddaa had not been given the nicknames "the Smugglers' Moon" and "Little Coruscant" for no reason. Though it was only a moon, it was almost—if not—as overpopulated as the city-planet. One fourth of Nar Shaddaa's crowd was made up of smugglers who had come to lay low or bring in the money for the contraband they had sold to their Hutt bosses.

Another quarter of the population was comprised of merchants—most of the racketeering swindlers or black market salesmen. Nar Shaddaa had just about anything you could be lucking for—from spice, to jewelry, and to clothes, it was sold by Nar Shaddaa's merchants and salesmen—some of which ran an honest and decent business; they were the few who tried to make a living the harder yet safer route. While these were good men, good men weren't as well appreciated on Nar Shaddaa as they should have been.

Four millennia prior to the outbreak of the Clone Wars, Nar Shaddaa had been used as a refuge to those suffering from the carnage of the Mandalorian Wars. Countless innocents fled for their lives as planet after planet was conquered by the Mandalorian neo-crusaders.

Millions more came to Nar Shaddaa when Darth Revan declared war on the Republic, thus beginning the Jedi Civil War and first Jedi Purge. When Revan was betrayed my his apprentice, Darth Malak, and presumed dead, Malak continued to lead the crusade with Admiral Saul Karath at his side. Karath became the commander of the entire Sith fleet and he would be the one to see to the destruction of many worlds.

Telos IV was the first to fall to the bombardment of Karath's ships, his personal flagship the _Leviathan _amongst them. When Karath had still followed the Republic he was something of a mentor to a promising young pilot named Carth Onasi, who one day would become one of the greatest Republic military leaders and strategists of his age, next to Darth Revan, of course. Admiral Onasi—Commander Onasi during the Jedi Civil War throughout the Battle of the Star Forge—had hailed from Telos, and that was where his family—his wife and young son, Dustil—had been when Darth Malak told Karath to bombard Telos as proof that the former Republic commander was now a Sith.

Karath passed the test.

Taris was next. Malak anxiously sought to capture the Jedi Bastila Shan to prevent the use of her rare gift of Battle Meditation against the Sith fleet. When he decided that capture was no longer relevant, he ordered Karath to position the fleet and destroy the kilometer-high skyscrapers that covered Taris's surface. Taris had been a Sith-quarantined world that was almost as populated as Coruscant. It had three classes of the people—the Tarisian nobles who lived on the surface, the middle class people who literally lived in the middle of Taris's tri-layered city, and the slum dwellers who lived in the Undercity where no sunlight crept.

Bastila—along with the redeemed Revan—escaped once again eluded Darth Malak's iron grip.

Shortly before Malak intercepted Bastila in the _Leviathan,_ he ordered Karath to bomb Dantooine, where a hidden Enclave of Jedi were stationed.

Four thousand years later, the ancestors of those survivors still lived on Nar Shaddaa.

Like Coruscant, just about every known species in the galaxy was on Nar Shaddaa. Duros from Separatist-conquered Duro, Bith, Bothans from Bothawui, Twi'lek from Ryloth, Hutts, Gand, Trandoshan, Iridonian, and just about anything else you could think of.

Like the planet Tatooine, Nar Shaddaa with its planet—Nal Hutta—were under Hutt jurisdiction. Nal Hutta had first been claimed by the Hutts millennia before the Republic formation. In Huttese, Nal Hutta translated to "glorious jewel." The swampy, boggy, bloated terrain commented its overlords just perfectly.

Too many side stories to tell about how people got to Nar Shaddaa that involve bloody battles, gruesome wars, and tiresome duels can be strung to describe Nar Shaddaa to its fullest. But those tales would go on and on and perhaps they would never come back to the present Nar Shaddaa, where much had changed in four millennia.

Towering space ports and docking bays built by the Hutts to accommodate for such a large crowd reached for the polluted sky. Some even stretched out into orbit. The stench of Nar Shaddaa was horrible, but no where near that of Nal Hutta, where it would take a month to get the stink out of your clothes.

The blunt nose of a Republic gunship dropped down from behind the murky brown clouds, plummeting toward one of the outstretched landing pads. The nose finally rose at the last second as the gunship dropped onto its repulsor lifts, hovered about half a meter above the ground.

A robed man with brown hair dropped from the pilot's seat onto the landing pad. "That wasn't so bad was it?" he asked his three other friends who each dropped out of the main hold, also wearing hooded robes.

"Yeah," said the only woman amongst them, sarcasm evident in her voice. "In fact, that was big improvement to how you landed on Rhen Var."

He blushed. "That was at the beginning of the War. I wasn't as skilled then. Now I can outmaneuver anything you throw at me—OUCH!" He rubbed the spot on his head were a trash can lid had hit him. With a flick of her wrist, the woman had sent it flying toward him before he saw it coming. "No fair!"

"I was just testing the reflexes of out reputable pilot," she said giggling. She suddenly became serious, almost grave. "We have to find a place to stay, otherwise the Empire will find us for sure."

"How do you figure they can find us? This is Hutt space." The tallest of the group, a young man with blond hair that fell over his ears and almost to his shoulders, brushed some of his stray locks from his eyes.

"Yeah, the Hutts barely let the Republic in here," another young man a head shorter than the tallest said. "What makes you think they would let the Empire intrude upon their operations?"

The woman snorted impatiently before she said, "The Empire is far more forceful than the Republic. Somehow I think these clone troopers—stormtroopers or whatever they're called now—were better suited for this forceful action than they were helping the Jedi. You saw how willingly they responded to Order Sixty-Six back on Rhen Var. If it were for the blizzard we might be dead. Plus the Emperor will want to think he holds supreme power over everyone and everything. He'll worm Nal Hutta and the moons into the Empire, you wait. He could make so much credits of piracy and racketeering he could create another army.

"Also, this Darth Vader—"

"Ssshhh!" hushed the blond-haired man. Everyone fell silent, barely breathing. Their sense perked up, listening for any small disturbance. "Did you hear that?" he whispered. "It sounded like someone running away from behind . . . there!" He pointed to an overflowing dumpster. If they all listened closely, they could hear the patter of booted feet running away.

"Whoever that was heard us," the man who had piloted the gunship pointed out.

"No, really?" the woman said sarcastically. Her brown hair whipped around her face as she turned her head quickly from side to side.

"We should find a cantina," said the blond man. "We might be able to talk undisturbed there."

The walked away from the landing pad and through a narrow ally until they came out at a wide street bustling with people. Ahead of them a maglev station stood packed with hundreds—possibly thousands—of civilians trying to get in.

_Oh great, this should be just fun, _thought the blond man.

They continued up until they were standing at the back of the line. They stood there for five minutes before they all became bored.

"Be right back," said the blond man. He began edging his way through the crowd. "Sorry, looking for someone!" he said to objections. He came back looking ruffled. "There are only three turnstiles for people to go into. Stupid Hutts . . ."

The line inched forward what felt like an inch an hour. Finally it just stopped.

"What's going on?!" cried a woman ahead of them.

"What's the holdup?!" a man farther up shouted.

Everyone standing at the head of the line was silent. While everyone from the middle back grumbled and complained, no word came from those standing up front.

"Lexy, do you think that you could see over the crowd if I lifted you up?" the blond man asked.

"You're the tallest," Lexy said, "why can't you?"

"Everyone's bunching up together for some reason."

"Okay, Jacen, if you insist. A woman's gotta do what a man can't do." she walked over to him and allow him to his arms around her waste. She almost squealed when he suddenly lifted her up way above the ground with strong arms.

"See anything?" Jacen asked.

"No, nothing . . . ," she began, scanning the crowd, "there, something!" She pointed straight out ahead of her, toward the turnstiles that led into the station.

"What is it?" Jacen asked, his arms getting tired.

"Three thugs," she said, still pointing. "Some guy dressed in body armor with a helmet, a Twi'lek, and an Iridonian."

Jacen set her down gently and tried to stand on tiptoe. Too many people were bunching together in the middle, no realizing what was happening.

"Look out, everyone! Coming through!" said the group's pilot.

"Dalin, no!" Lexy yelled, but he was already pushing his way through the crowd to the front. "What's he thinking? He's going to expose us for sure!"

"Sammy, come with me," said Jacen, pointing at the at the man a head shorter than him.

"What about me?" Lexy asked eagerly.

"Try not to do anything . . . stupid," said Jacen, shrugging. He ran ahead to Dalin with Sammy behind him.

Sammy reached Dalin first, grabbing him by the collar of his robes and hauling him around. "What are thinking?"

"I'm going to stop those guys!" said Dalin defensively. "Lemme go!"

"You'll expose us if you do!" said Jacen. "What else are you going to fight with but a lightsaber or the Force? You were never too good at unarmed combat."

"Then how else are we going to get through?" asked Dalin.

"We'll find another way around," said Sammy.

"We have to help these people!"

"Right now, we have to help ourselves," said Jacen.

"Fine I—what!" he looked up and then turned around to follow whatever he was looking at to the ground.

"What is it?" Jacen asked, looking up. Dalin pointed up.

Lexy had clearly jumped from the back of the line to the front where the thugs were. Here sapphire-bladed lightsaber was humming in her hand as she flipped down to the ground. She landed right in front of the three thugs who all looked shocked—except for the third, but he had a helmet on.

"That would count as something stupid!" Jacen cried, running after her.

They caught with her as she exchanged blows with the Iridonian who had a force pike clutched in his hands. The helmeted man stood behind him next to the Twi'lek, trying to shoot her down. Jacen dived in the way of the blaster bolts, igniting his blue lightsaber and swinging it wildly to bat away the deadly hyphens.

The force pike was humming dangerously, letting Lexy know it was set to its highest setting—at which point it could slice through skin like a lightsaber. She blocked one end of the pike to be met by the end with the vibro spearhead. She pushed the humming spearhead away and resumed her attack. She was forced to duck as the spear end came swinging for her head.

She parried as one end came to her right and dodged when the spear jutted out toward her. She jabbed for the Iridonian's side but only nipped his forearm, causing him to growl in pain. He spun around, gathering momentum before he brought both ends down on her from above his head. She parried both and dodged as the spear stabbed out at her again. She was able to parry most his blows but she was forced to block or dodge the rest.

She kicked her left foot out toward his face. She heard a satisfactory crunch when her boot made contact with his lower jaw. While he clutched his jaw she stabbed at the control setting on the handle of the pike. They shorted out as she sliced through the circuitry, leaving the tang of ozone to waft through the air. Despite the destruction of the controls it would still take time for the end to cool down.

The Iridonian growled again, stabbing the butt-end of the pike into her stomach, knocking out all the air in her lungs. As she gasped for breath the spearhead grazed her shoulder, making her scream out in pain. Her vision swam but she looked up at the face of the Iridonian. His jaw was swollen but he was smiling sinisterly nonetheless. He raised the pike, preparing to stab the spearhead through her heart—

"AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!" he cried, dropping the pike and clutching his stomach as the heat of a lightsaber entered his gut. The azure blade exited through the front of his torso, carving open his ribs and stomach. The blade was pulled out from behind him and he was kicked to the ground.

Jacen stood behind him, his lightsaber ablaze and holes from blaster bolts riddling his robes. She had never known him to miss a shot, he must have been distracted on something. Dalin and Sammy were fighting the Twi'lek and armored man who was probably a bounty hunter, both of whom were packing away, the latter reached a hand behind his back. He pulled a small silver sphere from his belt and set the charge. He kicked off from the ground, the jet pack on his back bursting into life and spitting fire from the exhaust. He threw the thermal detonator at the Jedi, tapping to fingers to his helmet and zooming off.

"Everyone, contain it!" Lexy cried as Jacen helped her up. They all gather around the detonator and held out their hands, forming an invisible barrier around it that would contain the blast. The detonator began to beep frantically, almost mocking them.

It blew, shattering their barrier and knocking everyone in a five meter radius onto the ground. Luckily the explosion itself was contained, but the wind had been too strong to be held.

Jacen looked back and saw the Twi'lek running away for his life, his hands over his head and his blaster lying forgotten where he had stood.

The Jedi all shut down their lightsabers and stowed them on their belts.

"All this to get into a maglev station?" Dalin asked. "Well, maybe now we won't have to pay . . ."

_Who was that bounty hunter? _Jacen asked himself. _Who sent him? Was he the one we heard getting off the gunship, or what that just a beggar? Is he working for the Hutts, or worse: the Empire?_

All of these thoughts disturbed him but he kept them to himself. Finally everyone recovered from their shock and began to enter the station. They boarded the maglev without speaking. It sped away toward the main city where they could find a cantina, and rest.

* * *

Sorry for the long wait guys! Thank you for being patient! I hope you like this chapter. Review!


	3. Chapter Three

Vader looked out the starboard viewport of _Executor,_ his masked face turning left and right repeatedly as he examined the artificial ring that ran around Kuat. The Drive Yards where one of the largest in the galaxy, so large that they had been built in orbit around the planet. The idea had been taken from Citadel Station, a space station where the survivors of the bombing of Telos IV four thousands years ago live in orbit over the planet. The Drive Yards were expansive, though it was no where near the size of the Citadel, which had expanded over almost one half of Telos IV. The gray ring of ship yards circled the blue and green planet, drifting slightly.

Shuttles and transports were zooming from the _Executor_'s starboard hangar bay, carrying the technician specialists and engineers that had replaced the sabotaged hyperdrive engines. They all headed for one of the thicker portions of the ring that were spaced every so many kilometers apart from each other. They were where the living stations for the Drive Yards' tech specs, engineers, and mechanics. He watched shuttles with his eyes as they sped toward the specific stations attached to the ring.

It took billions of gallons of fuel to keep Kuat from breaking apart and falling into the planet from orbit, so it had cost the Republic, and now the Empire, a _lot _of credits, no vague description required. Incomplete ships hovered inside the ring. Completed ships were emerging from the construction zones, large open areas were the mechanics and tech specs worked in zero G. It was harder to build ships with gravity weighing the mechanics down, so Kuat became one of the first to adopt the new method of working in zero gravity. That was the mechanics could lift the hulking slabs of durasteel and put them in place without too much effort.

Admiral Piett had sent him a list of prime suspects about two standard hours ago that could have sabotaged _Executor _and the _Accuser._ A small file that consisted of a small list of pirate organizations and their members was attached to a larger list of Rebel agents, leading Vader to believe that the two groups had formed and alliance with one another. Vader had seen the technology that the pirates had come up with, deadly swift swamp speeders, pod walkers, and other all-terrain vehicles. The pirates must eights have made a deal with a company that made customized vehicles. His suspicions were somewhat confirmed when he saw the Rebels using the same technology. They mainly used swamp speeders because of their speed and maneuverability, but occasionally pod walkers. The Rebels were new themselves, and already and irritant.

There was also the possibility that the Zann Consortium—which had a file at full memory capacity all to itself—was behind the sabotage. The Consortium was a crime syndicate that had taken up a spot as one of the galaxy's leading crime organizations, larger than even the Bumani Exchange Corporation that had once held sway over some of the galaxy. The Exchange had once posted a bounty on Jedi Knights after they were nearly driven into extinction by Darth Malak before Malak was killed by his old master, the redeemed Jedi Knight Darth Revan. The Exchange had been so large that other branches had been created from it, primarily Czerka Corporation.

Word had it that Jabba the Hutt was trying to wipe out the Consortium and its leader, Tyber Zann. From what Vader understood Zann was the type of person you would look for to be a leader, or a bounty hunter. Zann was ruthless and cruel to his enemies, yet a loyal friend and not unkind to his allies. The Consortium did not manufacture ships of its own; it purchased or commandeered them from other companies. Mandal Hypernautics supplied the bulk of the Consortiums fleet, becoming a significant ally to their cause. The _StarViper_-class starfighter attack platform, the _Crusader_-class corvette, and the _Keldabe_-class battleship.

Zann had trained to become and Imperial officer, but had disappeared shortly after graduating from the Academy of Carida with top marks. He would have made a brilliant leader in the fledgling Empire, but instead he decided to ally himself only with crime syndicates. He conquered many worlds, though he preferred to _corrupt _them as well. He refused all offerings of friendship between the Zann Consortium and the Empire, which had made the Emperor and Vader most . . . displeased. Though their anger was settled when they learned that the Consortium would not side with the Rebel Alliance either. Zann's spread corruption in the form of bribery, intimidation, racketeering, pirating, black marketing, and the like.

_Corruption is fine as long as it is spreading through our enemies, but even our own are succumbing._

It was true. The last thing a new order needed was corruption spreading through the ranks. Admiral Tenis Vann had been released from a holding facility on Coruscant after being suspected of corruption; he was one of the lucky few who had escaped the Emperor's custody. Corellia's governor was sympathetic—meaning "bribed into aiding"—the Consortium. Vader had been sent to deal with the governor . . . by any means necessary. It had taken three days to scrub up what was left of the governor after Vader departed. The Force Crush was very effective, especially when it used the . . . modification Vader added to it. The result was quite messy, but it gave him a reason to polish his armor and made him even more feared throughout the Empire.

"Lord Vader," said a voice behind him. He turned to see the officer who had informed him of the sabotage standing behind him.

"You have news for me?" Vader asked, his voice echoing through the bridge.

"Yes, my lord," said the officer, looking down at his datapad. "A ship designated _Slave I _is requesting docking permission. Should I let grant permission, sir?"

_Slave I _. . . Vader felt he should remember that name. A sudden wave of realization hit him. "That is the ship of Boba Fett. I hired him personally to keep eyes and ears out around the galaxy. Tell him he has permission to land, and then he is to meet me in my chambers. Inform him that credits will be transferred to his account, in the usual fashion."

"As you wish my lord."

Vader watched the retreating back of the officer, then began to make for his chamber. He was there in no time, owing to the fact he was in a hurry to get this conversation over with so that he could find the Jedi on Nar Shaddaa. He pressed the release stud and the doors slid open with a hiss. He stepped inside quickly, making a beeline for his desk. The room he was in now was connected to his hyperbolic chamber. It was a study of sorts, though only a desk and chairs occupied it. It was a cavernous room, despite Vader's wishes to keep it simple.

He seated himself behind his desk. Just as he did so the doors slid open again. Boba Fett stepped in unaccompanied. His scratched and dented green Mandalorian body armor was burnished in the overhead lights. His short-stocked blaster rifle was in a holster on his right hip. A small cape was pinned at his left shoulder and a jet pack was fastened to his armor on his back. A braid of Wookiee scalps ran down the front of his right shoulder. His face was hidden from view by a faded green Mandalorian helmet. Fett was still very young, yet his reputation as bounty hunter and assassin proceeded him.

"I trust you have good news, Fett." Vader said as Boba seated himself across the desk.

"Indeed, Lord Vader," said Boba, his voice synthesized by the comm system in his helmet. "The bounty hunters on Nar Shaddaa have dealt with Jedi before, so their Guild knows what would be in store for them if another Exile Bounty was placed on a Jedi"—the "Exile Bounty," as it had been named referred to a bounty posted on Jedi, preferably when they were scattered like they were; it's name had been derived from the bounty posted on the Jedi Exile—"though it has been thousands of years they haven't forgotten past struggles. They began to fear Jedi when one defeated the Exchange and drove them from Nar Shaddaa. That correspondent you sent to Nar Shaddaa was killed shortly after he sent you the information that he had spotted a Jedi. Though he said Jedi in the plural, probably to increase the credits.

"Shortly after four more arrived in a hijacked LAAT Republic transport. I'll skip to the point: if you place a bounty on these Jedi I will hunt them down. Everyone else is too cowardly to do it, and I've killed Jedi before."

"So you're telling me there are _five _Jedi on Nar Shaddaa?" Vader asked incredulously. _This is another Kashyyyk . . . _"Very well, Fett. I will post the bounty on Jedi. It will be for any Jedi found, so make sure you are up to the task. I will inform the bounty hunters while I am in hyperspace. The Jedi on Nar Shaddaa are _mine,_ however. I have come all the way from Coruscant to see to it they are driven off the Smugglers' Moon."

"That's all I ask, Lord Vader," said Fett. He tapped two fingers to his helmet and exited the room.

The Rimmer's Rest was a large cantina on Nar Shaddaa filled to capacity with people drinking, relaxing, making deals, and playing games like dejarik, Pazaak, and Sabbac. Cigarra smoke hung thick in the air, drifting over the heads of the patrons and making them silhouettes in the shade. Everyone but Jacen started to cough and choke, but he was used to cigarra smoke. He had once smoked, something that the three with him brought up as an example not to do stupid things. Cigarras were only dangerous if you inhaled the smoke, which was not a practice for anyone he knew that smoked.

The quartet moved farther into the cantina, seating themselves at the bar and taking a look around. A few men were playing dejarik away in one corner, occasionally roaring loudly as they won or were defeated. Pazaak players were shuffling cards with almost inhuman speed and dealing them out. Sabbac players were keeping their cards hidden from the eyes of others. Some people were dealing spice in one corner. A large Wookiee was pushing his way through the crowd, a drink in each hand.

"What can I get ya?" asked a beefy man with a large mustache. He was scrubbing a dusty glass with an even dustier rag.

"I'll take a Deralian brandy," said Jacen pulling credits from his pocket. The others all declared what they wanted and Jacen handed over the appropriate amount of credits. His drink was passed to him and downed it in a few swigs. He looked around again, then something caught his eye. A man draped and in black Jedi robes was sitting in a corner, his hood drawn and his face hidden in shadow. Jacen turned to the bartender, "I would also like some information." Jacen slid a fifty credit chip across the bar.

"What is it ya need to know?" the bartender asked, pocketing the chip.

"What's happening here on Nar Shaddaa? Anything unusual?" Jacen asked.

"Well, there's been more bounty hunters around lately," said the bartender, still wiping the glass. "Not that there hasn't always been bounty hunters on Nar Shaddaa, but ever since this Empire started looking for Jedi I suppose the bounty hunters one a cut of the money. Also more mercenaries are arriving from all over the galaxy. I talked with a few the other day and they said that they had been hired by Darth Vader. Keep an eye out and you might find out more; that's all I know.

"Thanks for the information." Jacen turned to his friends. "Do you think Vader posted a bounty on Jedi?"

Sammy replied, "If he hasn't he certainly will."

The viewscreen that hung from the wall stopped advertising swoop bikes and a voice said, _"This is an important message from the Lord Darth Vader."_

Jacen's blood ran cold as he was the hulking figure of Darth Vader step out into the bridge of a large ship. He knew that this would be the moment that Vader declared the bounty. Not on him and his friends specifically, but all the Jedi scattered throughout the galaxy. Everyone seemed to perk up at the mention of Vader, especially the man in the black robes.

_"There will be a substantial reward for anyone who finds and kills any Jedi that have escaped the Jedi Purge," _said Vader in his booming voice. _"Credits will only be attained if these Jedi are _dead,_ for I have no use for them alive. If you see anyone suspicious that may know something about the Jedi, they are to be brought to me personally, I will question them. That is all."_

"So it's begun . . ." said Dalin.

"We have to find a place to hide," said Lexy, standing up. "If they find us . . . all hope of repelling the Empire is gone.

"I agree," said Jacen. "Let's—" At that moment a strong grip anchored on his shoulder from behind, spinning him around. It was the man in the black Jedi robes. "Who are—?"

"Quiet!" said the man in a deep voice. "I know who you are and I'm in the same trouble. I know a place where you can hide; it's perhaps the safest place on the moon."

"What's you name?" asked Lexy.

His hood turned to her. "My name is irrelevant and unimportant at this moment. All will be explained in due time. Come with me. The Empire's agents will be swarming around here by the end of the day. Darth Vader himself is en route."

"Vader's coming?" Sammy asked.

"I believe I just said that," the man snapped. "Now come with me!"

"This is docking control, please state your business and designation," said a dock officer in one of Nar Shaddaa's hangar bays. A large ship had just entered the system, though he did not know who it belonged to.

There was a crackle on the other end of the comm. Suddenly a great booming voice said, _"I am here on behalf of the Empire. My ship is designated _Executor._ Anything beyond that is frankly none of your business."_

_Sounds like a really nice guy,_ the officer thought. "Very well, _Executor._ You have permission to land. It seems your ship too large to dock so you'll be maintaining your ship in orbit. If you have a shuttle you will dock in hangar bay B-thirty-oh."

_"Copy that," _said the voice on the other end.

The officer looked out and could see the massive form of a ship just above the atmosphere. It was larger than any ship had ever seen. Its stern stretched out to accommodate a series of burning lights, probably the sublight engines. He didn't know the Imperials could come up with something of that magnitude. Officials would have to watch themselves, or that ship _Executor _could bomb the moon all by itself. He could just imagine red hyphens of light streaming down from the ships turbolasers, destroying everything and everyone in their path.

A shuttle suddenly dropped into view, probably from the ship. It was a black _Lambda_-class shuttle. The officer then realized with a pang of fear that that was Darth Vader. His superiors had informed him the man would be arriving soon, but he never suspected this soon. He switched channels on the comm, trying to find the channel that the dock master was on. He found it and began speaking rapidly.

"Sir, Lord Vader has just entered the atmosphere. He's approaching quiet quickly. I sent him to hangar B-thirty-oh. Should I send a party of dock hands to meet him and escort him?"

There was a muffled yelp on the other end, followed by a voice, _"Vader's here? Already? Damn that man moves fast . . . Alright, send a squad of security officers down their to escort Lord Vader if he wishes it. Make sure he receives everything he asks for . . . this man is Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet and second in command of the Empire. If we screw up he answers to the Emperor, and I've heard stories . . . Remember, everything he wants, give it to him!"_

"Yes sir." The officer was perturbed by the fear in his superior's voice. It made him feel as if though he were doomed in a way. But what would Vader want with Nar Shaddaa? It was lowly moon filled with nothing but riffraff and smugglers. Unless Vader was connected to all the mercenaries and thugs that had been roaming around lately . . . He shuddered at the thought. Someone like Vader on a moon like Nar Shaddaa could only spell trouble for the moon's inhabitants . . . This might be a messy business indeed.

* * *

I had to replace this chapter because I am a complete idiot! I'm surprised no one told me, but I mixed up the name of one of my Jedi! When I first made this story I was torn between Jacen or Ryan Korr. I wrote the third chapter on another computer so I had a blond moment and forgot which name I chose. It is now corrected. 


	4. Chapter Four

Air traffic coursed through the street of the Vertical City, speeders and air taxis were moving with such rapidity it was astonishing that pedestrians could cross. A square pit in the middle of the moving traffic allowed civilians to see exactly how high up from the true ground they were. The true ground was leagues below the Vertical City, mostly everything was built above ground to accommodate the much needed room for the large populace. The roads zigzagged through the buildings and skyscrapers, so accidents occurred daily. Why the network of streets and pedestrian walkways was built this way was unknown, but it was probably because buildings were constantly being constructed.

The pit in the middle was once where the inhabitants of the Smugglers' Moon dumped their trash and garbage. It fed off into a trash compactor that then fed off into a factory where it was recycled and used for landfill. Everyone thought that the stench of Nar Shaddaa came from the exhaust from the constant docking and disembarking of freighters and ships. Either that or the trash that piled high in the alleyways and lay forgotten for years upon years. But it was truly because of the refuse used for landfill. But what else would be expected of Hutt overlords? They were cheap, and they didn't care about the people who lived on their planets. The Hutt Cartel was mostly behind it.

The Cartel manufactured items and objects from everyday home appliances, to weapons, to armor, to stimulants, to spice, to illegal modifying components, and even cybernetics. Everything was set at a high price—and the price never went down. Customers and consumers were lucky if the price stayed the same for a day or two, as inflation was highly favored by the Hutt gangsters and government officials. Jabba the Hutt, who was a big crime lord on the desert world Tatooine, was a big time seller of spice, contraband, and illegal weapons. Credits were damn near worthless on Tatooine, especially with Jabba the Hutt, and everything ranged from two to five times its market value.

The black market thrived strongly on Nar Shaddaa, as the Hutt law enforcers did nothing to stop it. Racketeering, bribery, ransom, and the like were part of Nar Shaddaa's daily events. Every day someone went someone went missing, and little was done by law makers and law enforcers to find the source of the disappearance. Only the families of the missing person tried to find out what had happened, but with infrequent results or leads. Private investigators could be hired, but they were not cheap. Bounty hunters lived on Nar Shaddaa by the hundreds because they were needed so often—money could be lost and gained on Nar Shaddaa. Money was mostly gained or lost from gambling though.

On the subject of gambling, casinos stood tall and flashing on every street corner, built to satisfying a gambler's appetite for the thrill and risk of betting. Everyone lost everything at least once on Nar Shaddaa, as cheating was also not uncommon. The Rimmers' Rest was partly as casino, but mostly a cantina. These casino–cantina buildings were called cantines by the local folk, not to be confused with "canteen." Thousands of off-world gangsters, crime lords, and big spender flocked to Nar Shaddaa for the sole purpose of checking out these big time cantines and casinos. Hijacks were also predictable as hundreds of private yachts and fancy ships were always docked on Nar Shaddaa. Any money someone made from gambling usually went to the purchasing of a new vessel in which to get as far away from the Smugglers' Moon as possible . . .

Apart from that, Nar Shaddaa's society was one that—despite murder, kidnapping, thievery, commandeering, and gambling debts—oddly functioned without the occasional arc wrench in the works to cause chaos and disorder. Hutts may be able to care less about the people who worked for them and lived under their harsh government, but _everything _was orderly. Even _murders _were done in an orderly manner. Hutts despised disorganization just about as much as they favored high prices. The first two months on the Smugglers' Moon were the hardest—if anyone _survived _those two months. When someone new came to the planet—and this always happened—it was likely something in the form of money being stolen from Hutts within the first hour in their stay. Their newbie status marked them for hassle and harassment from the Hutts.

Lord Vader noted several crimes being committed in the city from his bird's-eye view. He was looking out of the viewport of the his shuttle. It was slightly smaller than the one he had lost on Kashyyyk and more aerodynamic. It was a modified black _Lambda_-class, almost like the one lost to the treetop guns of the Wookiee defenders on Kashyyyk that had been a Theta. Ion laser cannons were tucked astern and small turbolasers were space along the S-foils and dorsal wing a meter apart. Two anti-starfighter lasers were positioned at the bow near the "mouth" of the shuttle where the boarding ramp lowered. A beam cannon was located above the cockpit in front of the dorsal wing. So Vader was adequately protected in his shuttle.

The modifications were ordered by him personally, and he had overseen their installment to make sure it was done just the way he wanted. There were still some technical specialists who doubted Vader's mechanical abilities, leading them to think they knew better than the Dark Lord. Their ignorance to his past was of no consequence to him, however, and there were three less tech specs in the galaxy. Vader had met such insubordination during his first few weeks with the Empire, but at that time he had shown some hesitance in killing off Imperial officers and, occasionally, stormtroopers. He didn't know what the Emperor would say to him if he killed the wrong person, but then he remembered that mercy was not the way of the Sith, and though Palpatine hid it, he was still Darth Sidious.

Behind Vader six Imperial officers stood, blaster pistols strapped to their hips in black leather holsters. They stood silently, their hands clasped behind them and their legs spread apart, like the officers usually stood when in the presence of a superior. They were handpicked by Vader, they were the few competent officers who had, as of yet, not failed him in any way. Black armbands were strapped to their upper right arms and a black button with golden star was pinned to each of the officers' left breast. It was the mark of their rank, sharpshooters of the Empire. At the Academy of Carida they had mastered Weaponry Class II—a fancy code name for "Weapon's Mastery in Ranged Combat." Weaponry Class II was shorter.

Vader observed the buildings that flashed by as the shuttle begin to descend to the appropriate hangar bay. Many were falling into ruin and slowly crumbling from within. Others hand long since given up the fight to support their own weight and had sagged over, the durachrome plating ripped liked a flimsi. Other semblances of decay and neglect could clearly be seen. Brown ivy, thriving from the polluted rain water, grew in great clumps on the sides of some buildings, slowing snaking their way up and taking the structures over. Other structures and skyscrapers were covered in layers of rust. Some of these had toppled as well. Some of the structures were clearly ancient, as they were made of ferrocrete instead of durachrome or durasteel.

The duracrete sidewalks and faded gray streets were cracked in places, in those spots the same brown ivy was creeping through. Pedestrians used these nonetheless, despite the obvious health hazard. The galaxy was lucky they had repulsorlifts and air vehicles, so potholes and cracks in the streets made little if any difference. Vader could just imagine, a society where wheeled vehicles were favored over speeders. Ha! The thought! Who in the universe would use vehicles with _wheels_? What with the convenience of air travel . . . Surely no one, would use wheeled vehicles. Not even in some strange galaxy far, far away would that happen! Such a display of primitive technology would not be worth bragging about . . .

A large compound on the outskirts of the Vertical City caught his eye. It was definitely archaic, but more modern than the other ancient structures. It was covered in sleek durasteel siding with a thick durasteel roof. It was probably about twenty stories high and covered in large rust spots. It stood tall and proud, despite the crumbling ruins it was nestled amongst. It was probably the most sturdy ancient structure on the moon. It had seen neglect that he was sure of, but it had been built to last. It wasn't made like the other structures simply so the construction workers and architects could get paid their wages. It had a certain air of purpose and strength. If he had not seen it fall and crumble before him, Vader would have compared it to the Jedi Temple. _That would be the perfect base of operations._

Sharp, slender alien letters were suddenly visible above a hangar. They were illuminated from the inside and glowed florescent pink. Below them blockier Basic numbers glowed cyan. The numbers read: **Hangar Bay B-30-O.** Vader remembered that it was his designated hangar. He tapped the pilot on the shoulder and said, "There is our hangar. Take the shuttle in. Avoid the smuggling freighters. This contraption isn't like the other shuttle." The pilot nodded and adjusted the control yoke. They dropped into a steeper descent, weaving through the congested lanes used by freighters to enter and exit the moon. The hangar was a considerable distance from the ground, about fifty stories. Suddenly the hangar walls slid smoothly past them, and the landing skids deployed beneath the shuttle. The pilot set it down with a slight jerk.

"It would seem we have a welcoming committee," Vader noted sardonically, gesturing to an escort of eight hangar bay security guards.

— — —

The five companions skirted the tumbling structures that dotted the city, moving farther into the outskirts of the city. The skyscrapers were getting older and more decrepit the further out of the city they moved. They stood tall and crumbling like sentinels, ruined witnesses of their passing. It was as if the city had started on the outside of the center, leaving a wide area open for traffic. Then, as the buildings began to get older and the city progressed, they slowly began to advance upon the city's center, encompassing it completely. Usually a civilization began in the middle, then slowly began to reach out, not vice versa. It was probably a method used by the Hutts to slowly but surely add pressure upon the inhabitants of the moon by adding more and more to the city and limiting open room.

The original four were beginning to wonder where the old man was leading them, but his hooded head wouldn't even turn to them. He seemed to be sure they were always behind him, as he would never look back to make sure. Occasionally he would stop to make sure they weren't being followed, but other than that he kept his surprisingly quick pace. He seemed to favor moving between the buildings and taking the alleyways to their destination. Wherever their destination was, that is. They didn't question him though; he could be the only way to escape Vader. They knew that before long the moon would not be safe, and they would have to make a run for it.

They turned into an alley, the old man's nightshade robes and shaded face allowed him to blend in perfectly with the shadows, making him virtually invisible. The four Jedi's earth colored robes—tan, brown, the darkest being a dirt color—did not compliment their abilities of stealth. They were trained in stealth like every other Jedi, but their robes only provided them camouflage when they were in a forested area, or in this case up against a wall layered with rust. They finally turned out of the alley and came out at a neighborhood of crumbling ruins and toppled towers. Nestled amongst these ruins was a large durasteel compound adorned with streaks and blots of rust. It looked like the oldest building in the Vertical City, though it looked like it was well-maintained.

"I found this about two months ago," said the old man, gesturing to the building as they stopped in front of it. "I'll explain its full history once we're inside. Suffice it to say that it was once a major place a very long time ago." The old man approached a large rust-covered door with a flashing lock mechanism that had to be a few millennia old. He typed a code into the panel and the doors began to slide open, rattling and groaning in protest. Rust grinded on the inner mechanisms that pulled it open. After much shaking and rattling it finally opened, revealing a pitch-black tunnel that sloped slowly down beneath the compound. "This was an emergency escape route," the old man explained. "There is a series of tunnels that winds and weaves underneath the compound. The main entrance is caved in, so I use this one."

The old man checked that no one was watching and then began to walk into the tunnel. The others followed until the darkness threatened to swallow them up. The old man reached into his robes and pulled out five lumas, handing one to each person and keeping one for himself. They all activated their lumas and the tunnel lit up within a two meter radius around them. They could see where parts of the tunnel wall was cracked and other places were it had caved in, leaving gaping black holes in the wall. Rodents could be heard in these holes, gnawing on whatever scrap of food they had found. Rubble and debris littered the floor, but at least they had not seen any corpses or skeletons as they usually did.

"It should only take about an hour or an hour and a half to reach the upper level," the old man said.

They set off at a fairly quick pace, making sure that they did not trip over rubble or debris. Red rodent eyes gleamed back at them from the darkness of the caved in sections of the walls. The tunnel, as they had thought, did slope down at first. It then curved to the right and steadily inclined upwards. After about twenty minutes the original quartet was ready to give up and fall down unconscious, but the old man was persistent and he seemed never to tire. The tunnel turned sharply left and then rose slightly before falling down deeper under the compound. It seemed like the tunnel would never end, but then it began to slope upwards again, and a dim light, other than the lumas small beam, pushed back the darkness.

Just as they neared the light, five round silhouettes dropped from the ceiling. Their bodies were segmented and covered in sparse course hair. Eight eyes reflected the pale light that leaked into the tunnel, looking hungrily at the five humans who had trespassed upon their homes. On each side of their round bodies were four long legs, each twitching slightly. A silver thread extended from the abdomens of the creatures, allowing them to dangle from the smooth duracrete tunnel roof. They were bigger than a man's fist with sharp fangs dripping with gooey venom. Their pincers clicked violently as they sat suspended in midair on their thin yet durable threads of silk. They were giant spiders.

The old man turned abruptly, his black robes swirling around him. He reached out toward Jacen, and at first the young Jedi Knight thought the old man was going to push past him and flee. Instead the man's hands went for Jacen's lightsaber, snatching the silver cylinder from its clip. Continuing to spin on his heel, the old man turned back to face the spiders in a swirl of black cloth. He activated the lightsabers azure blade. The eight eyes of each spider reflected the blue light before it swept through the arachnids' segmented thoraxes. The sizzling exoskeletons hung headless and twitching in their path. The swept his hand out and broke the strands of web, letting the bodies fall with a soft _thud._ He handed Jacen's lightsaber back to its owner.

"Damn spiders," the old man said, stepping over the severed thoraxes. Sammy prodded Lexy in the back to remind her to move. She had a shocked look on his visage. "This place was infested with them when I first found it," the man continued as they stepped into a lit hallway. "I thought they will pick the meat from my bones while I was asleep. I managed to keep them away though and I effectively wiped out their nests and webs. You wouldn't believe the size of the egg sacks they leave behind . . . almost makes me sick. Thousands of babies—about the size of ordinary spiders—will burst forth if you break one. Unless you have fire with you they'll attack and you will have no chance." They passed a broken glass window in which the breeze from outside was wafting through.

Small pieces of rubble was scattered on the floor, a thick layer of dust settled over everything. Bits of bent metal and other forms of refuse were stacked around the hallway they were in. A thick wall was to their right and a row of windows—unbroken and otherwise—was on their left. The hall lead down some distance before it turned sharply to the right and disappeared from view. The iridescent lighting over head made the building slightly warm and stuffy.

"Don't worry," said the old man, gesturing to the row of lights overhead, "it's only this stuffy in the escape halls. I don't know why they would put something that would slow someone down in a place where they need to go fast . . . blame the Exchange for that. The overseer who controlled this compound like to press down as hard as possible on this place. No one was brave enough to stand up to the squid-face—he was Quarren, so you know—not until the Jedi Exile came to drive the Exchange of this Force-forsaken world . . .

"Who knows why he even thought it was worth his time. Personal gain, perhaps? If that was his reason, his intentions were filled with naught but folly, the fool. He was very wealthy, you know. He could have bought each and every one of the refugees in this compound a suite on Coruscant . . . However, he squandered his wealth on frivolous things after he lost his rank as overseer. He became a spice addict, a heavy drinker, and then a gambler—perhaps the worst on this moon. He lost _everything _in a game of dejarik, poor fool."

"You know a lot for someone who's only been here for two months," said Dalin. "Even I didn't know some of that, and I trained as a Jedi Librarian—"

"Apart from the fact that Dalin's a nerd," Lexy interrupted, "he's right. I didn't know anything about that either."

"One does not become old without first becoming wise," said the man with a sly grin. "And dear lady, 'nerd' is just a term created by the ignorant to hide both their lack of knowledge envious feelings toward those who hold higher knowledge and wisdom than they do." Lexy seemed taken aback. The old man smiled wider.

Jacen thought the old man seemed to be hiding something. _Something that I intend to find out,_ he thought. The man gestured for them to continue onwards, and he followed somewhat reluctantly. They hurried down the hall and turned right, coming out into a darker corridor. They continued on past the rusted doors, some of them crushed, dented, and rent. Signs of battle were everywhere. Jacen saw carbon scoring and holes from blaster fire covering the walls and floor. A large hole that looked as if though it had been forced open by the punch of a large fist was in one wall, revealing the dark interior of a small room. _The refugees must have lived in such a cramped lifestyle . . . how did they stand it?_

The old man seemed to read his thoughts, as he said: "These 'rooms,' if they can be called that, which you see on either side of you were 'improvements' made by the overseer before he was stripped of his title and power. It was his last attempt to hold onto his rank. He thought that maybe, if he could gain favor with the refugees, they would protect him. He showed his foolhardiness in that moment . . . Before these living quarters were created, refugees lived in big cargo crates—they were smaller than these rooms. When one person became sick with a deadly disease that person had to be quarantined, or the sickness would spread throughout everyone. The Exchange would have no leverage if they had no bargaining chip."

"That's how they drew the Jedi out of hiding," Lexy said. "Ryan Korr in particular. Goto knew that he was the only one who could stabilize the Republic because he knew war."

"Ryan Korr?" Sammy asked. "Who's he?"

"The Jedi Exile, smart one!" said Lexy irritably. "He's Jacen's ancestor; Jacen is his direct descendant! Master Yoda always brought that up when we studied the Exile when we were younglings."

"That was—what?—twenty years ago?"

"Calm down, children," said the old man. They were into another hallway, where the temperature dropped to a comfortable level. They passed a hole that looked as if though it had been cut out by a lightsaber in one of doors; the rust was black and burnt around it. "I put that there," said the man, waving at it absent-mindedly.

The original party then realized they were on the second story of the compound. A wide area opened up as the corridor ended. They were standing on a balcony that overlooked the area. A ramp sloped down to meet the floor, it to was littered with refuse. Huge cargo crates—like the man had said—were placed in rows along the room. They were all dilapidated and crumbling, no longer fit for human habitation. Their doors were broken, beaten, smashed in, and some were even piled on the durasteel floor. Corrupted datapads littered the floor, along with other pieces of technology. Old comms, outdated weaponry, and even some old security tunnelers littered the floor. They looked up—ramps and walkways spiraled to the top of the building, nineteen stories above.

"Those tunnelers were kept by the refugees as a beacon of hope," said the old man. "They thought that when chance arose they would be able to escape using those; they'll only work on the locks of old buildings. They were replaced about a millennia afterwards because break-ins were increasing all over the galaxy. After the criminals had spent all their money on the outdated tunnelers, they were unable to buy the new ones. Everyone changed the locks on their homes, and break-ins decreased. Until the thugs actually started getting the money to buy the tunnelers, anyways. When the main entrance caved in they were forced to use the more dangerous escape tunnels—funny, isn't it, that the escape route would be the more dangerous path? Few escaped because the tunnel collapsed, I don't know why.

"My only guess is that someone tried to _blast _their way out. Smart, eh? Anyway, hundreds of thousands of people died in here. When I found this place their were _skeletons _absolutely _everywhere_! I had to drag them all out to the trash compactor two leagues from here . . . It was a rather. . . . unnerving task."

"I would think it would be," said Lexy, looking around with disgust.

"Away from that happy and cheery topic of discussion, we only have so much more time left here," said the man. "Our time is very limited, a day at the most. The Empire is already here, that much were have discovered. At any given moment Vader could decide it's not worth his time, fly back up in his nice little shuttle, and order the planet's surface to be bombarded. That means we _have _to leave tomorrow morning. Fortunately, I know a smuggler who will be willing to grant us passage off this Force-forsaken moon. Vader is an obtrusive person on this moon, and people will want him out as quickly as possible. With this in mind, wonder around the rest of the day of wish, but with the upmost discretion. Bounty hunters—even non-bounty hunters—will be looking to stop you, capture you, and possibly kill you. So _be careful_! Pulling stunts like what you did when you first arrived is not an example of being discreet."

"How did you know about that?" Jacen asked abruptly. "You weren't anywhere near us! Were you spying on us? Explain yourself! We know nothing about you, yet we have trusted you this far. There is no "you" in this "we" until we get some answers. For starters, who are you? And why do you want to help us?"

The old man was unfazed by Jacen's rudeness, yet he did seem to become older right before his eyes. His proud face became more lined and ancient. "I will tell you—but first we must get ready to spend the night in alertness. We have to go up to the twentieth floor. I go up their because then if someone like Vader gets in I'll know and it will take him longer to reach us. He will have to traverse twenty floors whilst we slip out onto the roof and climb the fire escapes down. You're Jedi, so it wouldn't take long. Come. The sooner we reach the top, the sooner you get your answers, boy."

The man set off at a brisk pace. Though he stood as tall as Jacen, he now seemed diminutive in a way. Jacen began to move forward when a hand stopped him.

"You were rude to him, that's why I can feel the guilt within you," said Lexy, stepping in front of him and looking up with a stern countenance. "He's helped us this far, and I for one trust him. You should have not been so curt with our savior. You _will _apologize." It wasn't a question, it was a command.

"Okay," he sighed.

"Good," she said, tossing back her mane of raven hair over his shoulder. She turned and followed the man Sammy and Dalin at her heels. He watched them descend the ramp and then head to another adjacent from them. The hurried up, and without further hesitation Jacen followed. He kept a ways away from the other four as he ascended.

They made their way up with as much speed as was possibly with their tired limbs. The windows they passed were dark, Nal Hutta was visible as if though it were a moon. Jacen could make out the large blotches of brown and green—that was the swamps and bogs that covered most of the planet. An area of unbroken blue stretched out between two continents, sparkling like a one big sapphire in the system's sunlight—it was still day on that portion of Nar Shaddaa.

After about an hour—they had become increasingly tired with each step—they reach the top. They each laid out on a patch of open floor, curled up in their robes, and went to sleep. Jacen did not press his further questions, he didn't want anyone else mad at him—or madder than they already were. _I'll ask tomorrow,_ he decided before drifting off to sleep.


	5. Chapter Five

**Jacen Korr's Log—Battle of Rhen Var**

_The clones on Rhen Var were amongst the last to receive Order 66 that ordered the termination of all Jedi. The squad of clone troopers that served under me during the missions that took place on Rhen Var all died when they attempted to protect me from those who sought to execute Order 66. They had fought with me bravely and gallantly, and I'm sorry to say they lost their lives so that I might keep mine. The other troopers also had been good to me, the ones my team protected me from, but I'm afraid that I was forced to draw my blade when they attacked me. I had heard that Master Yoda had been forced to do the same thing on Kashyyyk. Luckily he was friendly with the Wookiees._

_At first, It was Commander Salvo that accompanied me to Rhen Var. It was six months into the war and about four months since Jedi Knight—though only a Padawan at the time—Anakin Skywalker and Jedi Master—then Jedi Knight—Obi-Wan Kenobi had gone there to evacuate the small Republic outpost and Jedi sanctuary. Commander Salvo left for Murkhana to help Roan Shryne. He was replaced by Commander Aaron._

_It was now near the end of the war. Our task was to go into the Seps' FCC—forward command center—and steal their battle plans right from their data banks. So we did. We infiltrated the compound, destroyed any droid that was in our way, and hacked into the Separatists' computers, downloading all the data we found into an astromech droid designated R2-D2. Only I learned the significance of this droid._

_We were met with minimal resistance on our way out of the compound, though Commander Aaron expressed my worst fears by telling his squad mates to fan out so they would not be caught in a volley of blaster fire from any droid or Sep that tried to ambush us._

_We were just nearing the exit when hundreds upon hundreds of battle droids cornered us. I may be a Jedi, but even I can't take on several hundred battle droids. Even if I tried, their were only five clone troopers to back me up. One of them was a demolitions' spec, so I told him to set a charge whenever if we found a possible opening in the droids' defenses._

_We didn't. They kept their blasters armed and ready._

_We were captured and sent to a Separatist prison. Fortunately, however, I was pretty handy with Force persuasion. I influenced the guards who searched me and my team not to take out weapons. Especially my lightsaber. We waited until the coast was clear before we busted out of there. The demolition spec finally fulfilled his orders when we were chased by a battalion of battle droids. He was a good guy. Too bad he was killed._

_— — —_

_"Jacen Korr, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," Mace Windu said to me as his blue-hued image appeared on the holoprojector in my tent. "I'm just sorry that we couldn't meet in person."_

_"This war has indeed affected proper first impressions," I said with a grin, bowing to my superior. Mace Windu was a tall, dark Jedi Master from a remote world where his family had been part of the nobility. The name of the world evades me, but I'll think of it._

_Master Windu chuckled and then resumed his solemn demeanor. "The Jedi Council has a very important job for you and your squad mates."_

_"Me and my boys are up for the job. What's the mission?"_

_Master Windu's image disappeared and was replaced with a layout of the Seps' FCC. A few red lines crisscrossed from an entryway along a few narrow passages that led to what looked like a tech room. A red dot was centered in the tech room. The compound was roughly circular, surrounding what I guess was a landing pad in its middle._

_"Republic Intelligence," Windu's voice said, "has discovered that the Separatist battle plans we stole for Rhen Var are invalid. They're using an entirely different set of tactics and more brutal yet efficient strategies against the Republic forces, and we fear that if they keep it up they just might retake Rhen Var. I could send a detachment of Jedi there to do the job, but you're among the best."_

_I might be a Knight, but I've still got the expanded ego of a Padawan. "Of course, Master. Sending more Jedi here might place more at risk. We can't have that if we're to finish up this war."_

_"I'm glad you understand," Windu's voice said. "Anyway, because the stolen battle plans have been designated obsolete, we need the real ones. Jedi Intelligence has surveyed the layout of the Separatist command center and determined that this is the location of the Separatists' data banks."_

_The red dot flashed._

_"Go on."_

_"We suspect that the true battle plans are here. We've sent an astromech droid to hack into the files. I want you to infiltrate the compound and steal these plans with the help of Artoo Detoo. He's brave for a droid, so I would say he's the best slicer for the job. Any questions?"_

_"One," I grinned. "When do we get started?"_

_— — —_

_I admit that I exhibited some un-Jedi-like behavior during the Wars. I won't deny it. I enjoyed working with Commander Aaron and his team. Me and my squad mates were like brothers, and we had each taken the Seps' best shot and come up standing. We were comrades, brothers-in-arms. We helped one another through sticky situations no matter the costs to ourselves._

_I was sitting in a cushioned polyplast chair in our command tent, relaying the mission to the commander and my team. They were each nodding as I told them what we to do. I could tell they were excited. I was too. We had been cooped up in the cold with nothing to do for four weeks._

_"I expect we should pull this off tomorrow," Commander Aaron said, his helmet resting on his knees and his short-stocked DC-17 blaster rifle leaning against his left thigh._

_I nodded. "I was thinking that, too. Tomorrow is one of the warmest times of the year. I only have regular durasteel battle armor with flexible under weave. None of that light, fancy plastoid plating, imaging systems, helmet comms, or heating units for me in that."_

_"You're one of the few Jedi who make sense to me," my team's med spec said. His sobriquet was Kolt, which I think was derived from the healing agent kolto. The agent was inferior to bacta, and so had been replaced by it._

_"Why is that?" I asked._

_"Only Master Kenobi occasionally wears armor," Kolt continued. "With the exception of you, of course. I don't get why you Jedi walk out onto the field, protected by nothing but robes. When you're hit in the chest with a gun or shot with a blaster, what protection does that allow you?"_

_I smirked. "The point is to not let them get close enough to us to do that. That's why we need to be skilled with a lightsaber." I procured my lightsaber hilt and shook it gently before clipping it back to my belt. "Robes provide more maneuverability than armor. Jedi need to be flexible to perform Force acrobatics."_

_"But you've got us to watch your back," the tech spec of my team said. His name was Hack._

_"And you have the Jedi," I said pointedly._

_"True," said Bruno, the munitions expert._

_"But still, why don't the Jedi at least use some armor?" Timer, the demolitions' spec, asked._

_I shrugged. "I guess we Jedi thought we didn't need it. Except for me and Master Kenobi. Though Master Obi-Wan doesn't need armor to protect him from a volley of blaster bolts. He's a master of Soresu." I could tell that I said something that clunked with them. All of my squad mates—each who had their helmets off—had a puzzled expression on their face. I began to explain. "It's a lightsaber form—a technique—that is the perfect way to defend yourself, especially from projectiles. It was invented around the time blasters came into the picture."_

_"I see," said Aaron. The rest nodded their understanding._

_"We should get some rest," said Timer, throwing a glance at a chrono mounted on the canvas walls. "Big day tomorrow."_

_"No arguments there," Bruno said._

_"'Night team," I threw over my shoulder as I exited the tent._

_— — —_

_The next morning we assembled outside the command tent. We made sure our munitions were stocked and our weapons ready for battle. I secured a blaster pistol to my right hip and my lightsaber on my left. I could easily yank each from my belt if I needed to, my lightsaber with more difficulty. It was sheathed in a protective scrambler tube that would prevent scanners from identifying its signature._

_My gleaming white battle armor reflected the little sunlight that crept through the clouds in gray sky. It blended in perfectly with my surroundings, up to the gray flexible under weave. A white armor weave cloak hung from my shoulders and a matching tabard was tucked under my belt._

_"A nice replacement for brown," Aaron chuckled._

_"Indeed," I agreed._

_When we were sure we had everything that would be needed for the mission, we retrieved speeder bikes from the vehicle tent and powered them up. With one last once-over, we were speeding off toward the Seps' command center compound._

_The barren landscape of Rhen Var stretched out on either side of us as we made out way to the compound. Their were no trees to speak of, only the occasional pile of ruins or abandoned Republic command centers. We even passed the dilapidated Jedi sanctuary. Now condemned._

_"Relics of the Seps' first invasion," Timer said. I bowed my head respectively in the direction of the condemned sanctuary. Some Knights hadn't been so lucky as to make it out of there alive. I concentrated on the rocket launcher strapped to Timer's back to keep the tears back. Hey, I'm tough, but those Jedi who died had been my friends ever since we met at the Temple._

_"You okay, General?" Hack asked._

_"Fine, Hack. Fine. And it's Jacen."_

_"Sorry Gen—Jacen."_

_I couldn't help but grin. My boys were polite, and they always insisted on calling me by my superior military title. I now grimaced. My rank notwithstanding, I didn't need a reminder of the campaigns that I had led, the people I had killed, the planets that had been bombarded under my supervision, the brave men who had followed me to their end . . ._

_I shook my head to ward away the swarms of memories._

_"Are you sure you're okay, Jacen?" Aaron asked._

_"I told you. I'm fine." I wasn't. I was rationalizing, and I didn't care._

_We kept on going for about an hour before the Separatist command center loomed up in front of us. There were hills of snow around us, but we had been on a pretty even trail. It seemed that I would have seen the compound before we reached it, but the gray ferrocrete structure blended in with the craggy granite mountains that rose up behind it. There were rumors among the Jedi that lightsaber crystals grew in those mountains._

_Hack pulled up a holomap of the area. It was an aerial view of the compound and surrounding mountains._

_"This is where we're supposed to go in at," Hack said, pointing the southeastern corner. We were coming from the south, so it would be easy. "The astro droid Master Windu sent should be meeting us there with some boys to protect it."_

_I nodded. "Let's get this over with."_

_We revved up our speeder bikes and turned the noses in the direction of the southeastern corner, shooting off to meet up with the ones who were supposed to be dropping off R2-D2._

_We rounded the corner and braked the bikes, allowing them to hover on their repulsor lifts. An astro droid with a blue dome was accompanied by a pair of clone troopers._

_"We're glad you made it," the one on the right of what I figured must be R2 said. "We weren't sure if the jamming signals we were using worked on the cameras around the compound."_

_"It won't jeopardize the mission, don't worry," I said consolingly. "Anyway, it won't even matter after we pull this off. If they didn't work then the cameras are shorted-out now. I used the Force to scramble them when we entered the vicinity."_

_The clone trooper that had spoken let out a long sigh of relief. "Good to know, General. This is Artoo Detoo, the droid that will be helping you during this mission. He's a brave little trash compactor, so take care of him."_

_R2 warbled indignantly._

_I chuckled before saying, "No, I have a higher opinion of droids, Artoo."_

_Artoo chirped jubilantly._

_"How do you even understand that noise?" Bruno asked behind me._

_"There's a lot of droids at the Temple," I said. "I used to help make repairs on them in my free time. They talked to me and eventually I learned enough to listen."_

_"You fixed droids in your free time?" Timer asked incredulously._

_"Yeah," I said. "They talk just like people, in a way."_

_"Bah," said Aaron. "These droids don't need to talk. They just need to fulfil their orders and programming."_

_"Your opinion is noted, Commander," I said somewhat irritably._

_Aaron shrugged, hefted his rifle, and said, "We should get going. Thanks for the droid." The two troopers saluted and hurried around the corner where the must have had a land speeder._

_"Shall we?" I asked._

_We turned around and headed for where the map said the entrance to compound would be, R2 rolling behind us. We reached a small door with an access panel on the side._

_I said, "Artoo, care to show us what you can do?"_

_R2 made his way to the front of the group and inserted a utility arm into the access panel. The arm rotated one way, then turned the other, the panel chimed, and the doors slid open._

_The hallway that appeared behind the door was dimly lit by a few lights. Apparently this must have been some emergency exit—possibly a fire escape. We entered the hall, surveying the narrow space for any signs of a trap. There were none, so we moved more freely through the hall and into a more brightly-lit corridor wide enough for all six to walk abreast._

_"No Seps or droids in the corridor," Aaron announced. "No auto turret defenses, no carbon freezing units, no rocket launcher pads, no mines . . . Either we're playing into their hands, or this is the easiest mission I've ever undertaken."_

_I chuckled. "Indeed, Commander."_

_I never get why titles make my skin crawl, yet I have to call people by their's or I feel like I'm committing insubordination or being disrespectful._

_We reached a sharp left turn in the corridor and advanced upon our objective with as much silence as was possible. R2's wheels were the only noise that could clearly be heard. Fortunate for us, there were a lot of astromech droids in this corridor._

_R2 suddenly warbled nervously, skidding to the right slightly as he stopped quickly. My full attention was now on this droid, for R2 had just announced something only I could understand._

_I said brusquely, "Artoo's scanner just picked up some mechanical signatures." R2 beeped what he had discovered and I finished, "There are two MagnaGuards positioned at the nexus of corridors just ahead. They've got their electrostaffs at the ready, so get ready to charge in shooting at them."_

_We continued on down the corridor in complete silence. Aaron and the other troopers made sure that their weapons were loaded before we moved into the general area the MagnaGuards were in. MagnaGuards were probably the most deadly of droids. They were sometimes known as Grievous's Bodyguards. They were designed by Grievous and manufactured by Dooku. But with Dooku now serving the Jedi again, no more of them were being manufactured by the Geonosians._

_I had only ever faced two MagnaGuards during the Clone Wars. They were hard to beat. I have to admit it. They were personally trained in the Jedi arts by Dooku and Grievous, the latter of which had been trained by the count as well._

_Artoo chirped. We were ten meters from the Guards._

_"We are very close," I whispered. I knew how sensitive a droid's audioreceptors could be, especially with the MagnaGuards._

_"Weapons check, squad," Commander Aaron said._

_Each of the troopers made sure they had gas packs in their blasters and extra ammo magazines on their utility belts. I checked my blaster pistol, slapping the blaster pack to make sure it was secure._

_When everyone confirmed that their weapons were working properly, we began to set off. It was time to confront the Guards. Hopefully the confrontation would end in our favor._

_Aaron kept his blaster rifle in front of him, his sight pressed to the tinted T-visor of his helmet. I could tell the imaging systems were cranked up so that he would see the MagnaGuards before they saw him. I drew the hilt of my lightsaber from my belt as Aaron drew a bead on one of the Guards. The salvo struck between the photoreceptors of the chosen droid and it dropped with a metallic clang._

_The other was quick to respond. It slid on its magnetic heels to my left as it avoided another bolt from Aaron. It used the electrostaff in its hand as a support as it slid in an arc away from the sizzling bolt which went into one of the ferrocrete walls._

_"Foolish humans," the droid said, its voice like a particularly static-filled transmission. "Your flesh is inferior to my design."_

_A blue bar of energy shot from my fist as I pressed the activation stud of my lightsaber, igniting it with a sharp snap-hiss. The troopers gave me a wide enough berth to swing freely without me having to worry about friendly fire. The MagnaGuard was charging at me like an angry nerf bull, its photoreceptors glowing menacingly and the purple bands of energy that surrounded the tips of the electrostaff crackling evilly._

_I swung first as the Guard entered strike range. It blocked my lightsaber with one end of the staff, the cortosis in the shaft giving the blade pause before it was shoved away with a brutal parry. I stumbled back a step and swung the right, causing the Guard to lose balance as it swivelled on its rotatable waste to prevent from losing its weapon._

_I admit that I didn't notice the aim of the counterstrike until the moment before it happened. The Guard's rotation ended abruptly and it snapped back in my direction, sending one end of the staff into my left upper arm, burning through the flexible weave, through my flesh, and into my biceps, cauterizing the tissue and muscle. I gasped as the crackling energy surged through my body before relenting as the Guard pulled his weapon away._

_"Flesh is weak compared to unyielding might of steel," it said before it aimed the other end of the staff for my stomach._

_"Perhaps," I said as parried the blow one-handed, "but one droid skilled with an electrostaff is weak compared to the unyielding might of a Jedi Knight with a mastery of Makashi."_

_With that I began to weave complex blows around the droid, driving into its defenses. It fought well, I admit, and I blessed the fact that I usually fought one-handed because of the principles of Makashi._

_The fight was long and brutal, and I earned more burns on my thighs and one long burn across my back. It was harder to counter the imitation of Jar'kai the droid used than other lightsaber forms with Makashi because of Jar'kai's double-bladed use. It was deadly in the hands of a skilled user. Droids were no exception, though they lacked the true grace._

_The blue blade of my lightsaber sliced through the control panel on the electrostaff in a swirl of robes, the reek of ozone, and the flash of red photoreceptors. Usually the panel was faced away from the combatant's weapon, a deadly mistake the droid had made. The electro pulse energy bands dissipated, but the staff was still a weapon._

_I parried three more blows from the Guard before I knocked the staff from its hands, sending the weapon flying behind me. With the droid disarmed, it was easy to open it up from right shoulder to left hip before it could try anything else. An ozone reek rose from the sizzling droid as its garbled voice sounded in a groan of defeat._

_— — —_

_After two hours of battling our way to the tech room, we began to hack into the files with the help of R2 and Hack. Hack announced that the system was protected with an alarm system that would go off should the wrong password be given three times—I was struck by the significance of "three strikes and you're out."_

_Hack entered an unsuccessful backdoor code. R2 also entered one that caused the screen to read "ACCESS DENIED" in blocky red Basic letters. We had one more try._

_Hack entered another code, and thank the Force that it worked. We had gained access to Seps' data banks._

_R2 plugged in and began chatting with the system. He separated the files we needed from the ones of little or no consequence. After about fifteen minutes, R2 had loaded his memory banks to capacity. Now it was time to get out._

_We hurried out of the tech room and down the corridor, relying on my memory of the compound's layout. If I remembered rightly, we were hurrying down the door that would take us back to our entry point. Once we were out, we could hightail it up to our FCC and report our findings to Master Windu, who in turn would report it to High Command, and, ultimately, Chancellor Palpatine._

_Unbeknownst to us at the time, Palpatine would have slightly different plans._

_We neared our exit, but blocking the way was a dwarf spider droid. These droids were dangerous as well. They were equipped with a blaster cannon powerful enough to rip into a tank's hull and a self-destruct mechanism for clearing away enemy troops._

_We had slid out into the corridor trying to stop, so the droid had its two red photoreceptors turned in our direction._

_"Look out!" I yelled._

_From the cannon affixed to the droid's "face" a sizzling bolt shot from the nozzle. It was aimed for Aaron, so I shoved him aside and drew my lightsaber, deflecting the bolt back at our assailant. The droid's photoreceptors dimmed as the bolt struck true, sizzling into its dome._

_Aaron balanced himself and turned to me. "I owe you one, General."_

_"No need, Commander," I said. "And remember, it's Jacen."_

_"Yes, sir. Team, fan out."_

_R2 warbled a warning behind me. I turned and stared into the droid's one "eye."_

_"There's hundreds of droids headed in our direction," I said. "They probably detected us tampering with the system. They probably keep a log of wrong pass codes entered into the data banks."_

_"Dammit," said Timer as he drew his blaster pistol, looking around for droids._

_"Timer, whenever you see and opening, blow these droids apart," I said, holding my still-ignited saber in front of me._

_"Will do," said Timer, replacing the pistol in its holster and drawing the rocket launcher from his back. He loaded it and set it on his right shoulder, the padded shoulder guard there prevented the heavy gun from hurting or displacing his shoulder._

_The patter of hundreds metal feet echoed around the corner and hundreds of droids marched into view. The skeletal-looking battle droids were behind the bulkier and harder to kill B2 droids, commonly known as super battle droids._

_"Timer, take them out!" I shouted._

_Timer was just about to pull the trigger when the barrels of several blaster rifles dug into our backs._

_— — —_

_"Our masters will soon meet with you," the voice of a MagnaGuard said from the cell door. "In the meantime, get comfortable."_

_The Guard walked away and the two supers that had brought us to the cell took their places outside the cell. The cell was probably large enough for about seven people._

_"Jacen, if you'd like I can heal those burns."_

_I turned in the direction of Kolt. "I'd appreciate that."_

_Kolt dug around for a medpac and some bacta healing agent. When he found them, he stepped off to me and helped my peel off my cloak and chest plate, my arms sore and stiff from the burns. Burns crisscrossed my chest and arms. Some of the raw flesh had split, bleeding profusely. It had probably happened when I was batting away blaster bolts from the dwarf droid._

_"Ouch." Kolt opened the medpac and took out an alcohol cleaning pad. He wiped the pad over the burns and bleeding spots. I gasped sharply as the pad swept over the raw and bleeding skin. "You're one tough Jedi."_

_I took the compliment without saying anything, biting my lip hard enough to draw a drop of blood. Kolt finished and spread the bacta over my wounds and burns. The cool bacta soothed the irritated and inflamed fresh. I could feel it begin to heal the skin._

_"Thanks, Kolt," I said as the med spec bandaged the burns so the bacta wouldn't rub off. "I owe you one." I slid into my armor and fastened the white cloak around my neck._

_"No problem," said Kolt._

_"Now it's time to get out of here," said Timer, drawing a grenade from his belt. Luckily for us, the guards who had searched us had been humans._

_"Let's choose a more subtle path," I said, drawing my saber hilt. "We don't want to alert them to our escape." I ignited the saber and began cutting into the door to our cell. After a few minutes it crashed to the floor and the two supers marched in, wrist blasters emitting white noise as they charged up. I let the troopers take care of the droids. After that, we hurried into the cell block._

_Rows of doors like ours lined the corridor. I didn't know why they didn't use energy shields like prisons and cell blocks usually did, but I didn't think on it because the Seps' ignorance had been our savior. We continued out further into the hallway, passing other cells as we went. We rounded a corner and ended up in the hallway we had been captured in. I hadn't realized it before because they had taken us around the long way when we were captured._

_"This was too easy," I said as we entered the hallway to the exit. "No resistance other than the two supers, no droids in the hall . . ."_

_"Blast 'em!" a droid voice said behind us._

_"Roger, roger," came the reply of about a dozen or so battle droids._

_I turned on my heel, my still-ignited saber coming up to deflect several blaster bolts that had shot towards me. I sent two of them back, sizzling through the air into the heads of two droids. Timer took care of the rest. Smoke shot from the back end of the rocket launcher on his shoulder as a yellow-flamed missile shot from the front, exploding at the droids' feet and blowing them all up in a blaze of sizzling mechanics and the tang of ozone. Several bolts whizzed from the smoke as it cleared—the last shots of the now-disintegrated droids—in Timer's direction._

_"No!" I shouted, diving forward. I was too slow. The bolts struck true and Timer dropped._

_"Leave him, General," Commander Aaron said. I was too shocked to correct him. "He did his duty; he died protecting one of the greatest Jedi Knights of our age." I ignored the compliment and followed my team out of the compound._

_— — —_

_What happened after we escaped the compound is too painful for me to go into any great detail. We hightailed it up to our command tent to find several of the clone troopers stationed on Rhen Var waiting for us with two captives who happened to be Jedi and friends of mine._

_Before I go further, it is as mystery to me as to why they spared my friends. The orders were to eliminate all Jedi. Perhaps they wanted a bargaining chip. They didn't live long enough to get one._

_The troopers announced that Order 66 was to be carried out. It had been issued by High Command, coming from the desk of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine himself. I'll never forget what Aaron said. "We don't kill our own." We rescued the Jedi, Dalin Kay and Alexis Shan, before we were faced with more troopers._

_The fourth Jedi assigned to Rhen Var, a close friend of mine, named Sammy, joined us soon after. My squad was killed in the initial fighting. During the time I ditched my armor for the usual robes, glad to have some flexibility. After we dealt with the clone troopers, Alexis, Dalin, Sammy, and me stole a Republic gunship and made our unobtrusive escape to Nar Shaddaa. On the Smugglers' Moon, we were sure, we would be safe._

— — —

"This was all you could find out about him?" Vader asked rounding on the leader of the escort. They were now in the room that contained the space port's files and mainframe. "His personal log on _one battle_?"

"Well, we did a sensor scan on information concerning Jacen Korr," the leader said. "We picked up his personal log and extracted the information."

Vader remained silent, looking through the red-tinted hemispheres that covered his eyes into the face of the escort leader. "So then he will know that his _personal data files _have been _invaded._ I will tolerate your incompetence, though. If you managed to get a download off this Jedi, then you can locate his _exact _position on the Smugglers' Moon."

* * *

_Hope you like it guys! Sorry it took so long, and no, I was not dead but thanks for the numerous reviews wondering where I was . . . Anyway, here it is! I'm not very acquainted with writing first-person accounts, so I hope you will give me some pointers just in case. I was having some computer troubles and I think I succumbed to a little bit of good ol' pychosis. You know what I'm talking about. Thanks for being patient._

_Draconous_


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